


black and blue (blossoms in the dark)

by noctyx (nicrt)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Comfort/Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicrt/pseuds/noctyx
Summary: the hanahaki disease, a post-apocalyptic world, and the bruises on the world’s skin





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aithilin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/gifts), [CkyKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CkyKing/gifts), [JazzRaft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/gifts).



> Thank you for the lovely bouquet that day~ I hope I can do you all justice with my own.

What was the old Solheiman prayer? ‘ _If love_ ’…something?

“If love-,” his throat closed up; he squeezed his eyes shut as struggled to breathe.

“If love ever finds you- hrk- may the crystal take you,”

\- _she looks at peace, as if she’s merely asleep. her skin is covered with jagged edges and polished surfaces. light refracts through the clear stone, rocks the colour of the sun. her eyes are closed, hands over her heart like she’s praying, her hair suspending around her. a smile is etched across her face, soft yet bright. the yellow crystal that embraces her glows like second sun, their personal star. and he can feel it; the love that emits from her heart. and it hurts so much -_

“If ha-,” he doubled over, a hand clutching at his abdomen, “if hate- hate ever finds…finds you. May the shadows be kind,”

_\- oily black substance seeps out of his eyes, ears and mouth. It trails down his skin like blood, a viscous liquid from wounds on the person. internal wounds, scars of the heart. they harden around his shoulders, along his arms, his chest, his feet and legs. stone as black as midnight cover an eye, crafts a horn behind an ear, creates a claw out of what was once his hand. he looks to be in pain, a mess of tattered clothes and torn flesh. he can feel his pain, as he trudges into the night, feels it as if it’s his own -_

Noctis glared at the scattered petals before him, a disgusting mess mixed with mucus, saliva and blood. The blue of the flowers – whole ones, with their stalks and pistils – was vibrant against the white tiles of the bathroom floor, even if covered in gross liquids. His throat still ached from all the retching he’s done. His hands shook even while they tried to keep him steady on his knees. His chest burned; lungs working overtime, heart beating too fast. His vision blurred, he felt his eyes burn with the tears that threatened to spill.

He flops onto his side, mouth agape as he struggled to breathe. They come out as short but heavy breaths, like a chainsaw. He felt dirty; lying in a pool of his own vomit. But he was too tired to sit up, to think of sitting up. The pain that came with forcing these flowers out of his system left him lethargic. But a sense of ease washed over him, for one moment. A high that came after the roots pass through his teeth, when the last of the stems and flowers drop onto the floor.

There’s a rush of happiness that goes to his head; messed with his vision, seeing swirls or colour and dots of bright lights. He smelled sweet fragrances, floral, but the kind that didn’t make him want to strangle himself. A smile – maybe half-crazed, half-desperate – crept across his face; a laugh leaves him, a little broken and a little sad.

“May you never lose your sense of self.” Noctis whispered, dragging a finger on the floor. “May you never stray from the path you make.”

It’s gone as soon as it came, the high feeling; soon the despair that shook him to his very core years before returned. Ten-fold, like a weight of stones crushing over his heart. He felt a turmoil of emotions – love, hate, hope, fear – wreaking havoc through his mind, his heart, his soul. Noctis couldn’t help the sob that escaped him.

He curled himself up, longing for the pair of arms that once protected him from the world to come back. He tucked his knees under his chin, wrapped his arms around his shoulders, allowed his hair to shield his eyes from the truth of his predicament. Noctis, bit his bottom lip as another sob rocked through him. When he couldn’t hold the sadness back anymore, when the memories of his father returned to torture him, did he finally weep openly into the bed of flowers he made.

_‘Lest the flowers choke you and saves you instead.’_

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: slow updates on this one too (when has it ever been quick ones insy...). hopefully with posting this, I can get my writer's block fixed.
> 
> the hanahaki disease is very different in this verse. it's not just through unrequited love can you contract this sickness, but mainly through any sort of deep despair. just so we're all clear.


End file.
